


i'd leave it all

by wishingwell44



Series: Playlist [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy Bucky Barnes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Bucky Barnes, Swearing, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingwell44/pseuds/wishingwell44
Summary: Bucky decides to be impulsive and serenade the guy he hooked up with.It doesn't quite go to plan.





	i'd leave it all

**Author's Note:**

> All rights go to Marvel.
> 
> Prompt is from 'prompthell' on dreamwidth.
> 
> Song used in the fic is Budapest by George Ezra. All rights belong to the singer and songwriter.

Bucky adjusted his guitar so it sat on his back in order to climb the fire escape. Now, Bucky Banes was an impulsive guy. He would go to concerts, that would span well into the evening even with an early work schedule, and a binder full of deadlines. He would run to the subway and choose a place to go to just hang out, if he had time. 

Bucky just wanted to  _live._  He enjoyed work, truthfully. App development wasn’t what he thought he would do with his life after war, but hell - he sat on a chair, fixing things, with  _him_  doing the manipulations to figure out buggy code and it made things better.

Did he wish that he could do that to his own brain? Abso- _fucking_ -lutely. However, he let the waves of music carry his troubled soul to other places, where he can float on a cloud, or feel like he’s effervescent while crowd surfing spoke to him much, much more. Music, to him, was an addiction that he loved. It wasn’t toxic, like he saw most vets fall to the bottle, or fall to something much darker, and well, it made his therapist happy, and to see her happy, made him…happy.

From anywhere from 5pm to 7:59am he wasn’t the slacks and button up tattooed developer, he was the spikes and Doc Martins veteran who just wanted to fuck the guy who lived on Lafayette street because he met him at the pop up Fugazi concert the week before. They texted, the made out  _hard_  in the bathroom of the concert hall. It wrecked him. Bucky thought about it constantly and sometimes forgot what he was coding and had to start a two hour session all over again. 

So, he wanted to impress this dude. He’s seen the movies.  _Say Anything, 10 Things I Hate About You._  Those intimate moments where they would share something about their love of music and win them over. He was infatuated. Strong arms, tight ass - the works. 

Bucky climbed up the fire escape. On the scrap piece of paper the dude put his number and address with the chicken scratch that read “ _for next time”,_ and like hell he would just show up at his front door.

He would show up at his window, which Bucky immediately assumed to be less frightening. 

Bucky got to the level, pulled the guitar from around his back and sat down. He pulled the strings lightly to hear if he needed to tune. The lights were dimmed from the curtain, but he could tell that someone was inside, going back and forth, before sitting the blurred image to what he could assume was his couch. He looked…different? Bucky could quite tell, but the person inside looked a lot smaller than what he remembered.

_It’s the window. Probably a forced perspective thing._

Bucky shrugged.  _Whatever,_  he thought. He started to play the song.  _Budapest_  by George Ezra. Yes, yes, Bucky was a punk at heart but that song  _spoke_  to him. It’s about love, about giving up  _everything_  to be with that one person, to give up even living in society just because that one person change your entire life, and  _hell_  if that isn’t punk, what is?

He sang the words - not too loud, of course, he didn’t want to disturb the neighbors. 

He got to the start of the third chorus and through his confidence had been singing a bit louder.  

“ _Give me one good reason, Why I should never make a change, And baby if you hold me, Then all of this will go away_ ,” Bucky sang, giving a bit of raspiness to give the emotion of the song.

All Bucky heard in response, as he continued was not the thing he wanted to hear.

“ _Oh, Jesus Christ, I can’t take this any longer.”_

That was not the response he was looking for in the muffled voice that was definitely not the guy he hooked up with. The man behind the curtain pulled the fabric in anger. Bucky clutched his guitar in shock, and hit his head on the guardrail that was his saving grace and the only thing that saved him from going to the Emergency Room.

The short, skinny guy screamed, and well - Bucky screamed back. 

The man fell onto the couch backwards, with his glasses falling between the space between the wall and the thick dark green fabric. He scrambled in his skinny jeans and a shirt, tried to find the nearest baseball bat inside, but only realized he couldn’t see until he was in the middle of the room. His arms were spread out shoulder width, using them to detect any furniture in his space. 

Through the window, he could hear the swears of annoyance.

 _Nope,_ definitely  _not bathroom guy,_ Bucky thought. He rubbed the back of his head where the metal struck. Bucky’s impulsiveness bit him in the ass, and not the way he wanted. After his heart rate settled a little bit more, he moved the guitar, semi-rushed to get out of the fire escape before somebody called the cops, and started to descend the ladder.

He still heard the guy’s voice through the window of swears and frustration. Bucky sighed, and climbed back up the two rungs.

“Hey,” Bucky said a little louder so the man could hear. No response. “ _Hey,”_  The tone was a little bit more forceful, and got the other man’s attention.

“ _What the fuck, why are still here?!”_ he questioned through the window. “ _If you’re gonna burglarize me, get through the fucking window and get it over with. Unless you’re a serial killer. Are you a serial killer?”_ The shorter guy was now patting the floor.

“Your glasses fell between the wall and the couch.”

“ _Huh?”_

 _“Your glasses might be between the wall and the couch,”_ Bucky said forcefully again. He watched the man slowly walk to the couch and lay on the floor, sweeping his hand to find the glasses. He could barely hear the other man’s frustrated ranting. He could pick up words of “ _stalker like_ ” and “ _hoping you’re only doing this once_ ”. After about a half a minute, the man adjusted his glasses on his face and -

Oh.

_Oh._

He was.  _He was -_ Bucky’s thought’s stopped as he couldn’t find the words.

“ _Are you going to kill me?”_ They looked at each other through the window. 

“No,” Bucky said.

The man opened up the window. “Can you explain to me  _why_ you’re outside my window at…8 p.m. on a Wednesday?”

“Well, I had this - wait. Your apartment?”

“Yes, I pay the gentrified rent. This is my apartment.”

Bucky fished out the note in his pocket, and looked at the handwriting. “This is 330 Lafayette Apartment 5A - and you’re not Brock, unless I had too many drinks.”

“Definitely not a guy name Brock.”

“Huh.”

“Well, it looks like he gave you the wrong address. Congratulations. You got stood up for probably the first time in your life.” 

Bucky started to chuckle. He went through all of this trouble, singing, lugging a guitar on the 6 train,  _climbing up a fucking fire escape,_ and singing at this random, albeit attractive, person’s apartment all from a piece of paper. Bucky craned his neck backwards and winced.

“…are you okay?”

“Sorry, it’s just the situation is just…very stupid,” Bucky’ sighed, “Sorry for…everything.”

“No, I mean your neck - did you hit it hard?”

“Yeah, I think it might bruise?” Bucky rubbed it.

The other man paused. “Do you want some ice for it?”

“Uh,” Bucky paused, studying him. “Are  _you_  a serial killer?”

“Nope.”

Bucky rolled on his feet, pursing his lips together. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am ever gonna be.”

“Fuck it. I would like some ice for it. Can I just…step through your window?” 

“That’d be easier than climbing 5 flights of rickety ladders,” the other man laughed. 

“Do you have a name?” Bucky said as he maneuvered the guitar off of him, and put it through the window first. 

“Steve,” he smirked, with his cheeks pushing his glasses up slightly.

“Nice, to meet you Steve,” he put both feet through the window and sat on the still, and gave a delighted huff. He just looked at Steve. Five foot…four-ish? Maybe a hundred pounds, but all of those hundred pounds exuded the one thing that he hadn’t seen in other people. Confidence. Music had been the one thing that kept him floating, forgetting about the world that was at his fingertips, but maybe Steve was the one person that could keep his two feet on the ground. “I’m Bucky.” 

*

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write! Thank you to funvee for the prompt from prompthell on dreamwidth.


End file.
